


my treasure; my light

by darkmillennium



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bittersweet, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, Dorks in Love, Established Relationship, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Michael Possessing Adam Milligan, POV Michael, michael's an absolute lovesick fool just like in canon, this is just pure sweetness with a quick dash of bittersweetness honestly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:46:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25451866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkmillennium/pseuds/darkmillennium
Summary: This habit of his is something new, something private that Adam was entirely unaware of. He'd never even thought of doing it, during the times ofbefore—would have considered it maudlin human sentiment, something unnecessary and irrelevant that would contribute no benefits to the execution of his Father's plan.But this is notbefore, and Michael no longer scoffs at such sentiment.
Relationships: Michael & Adam Milligan, Michael/Adam Milligan
Comments: 9
Kudos: 159





	my treasure; my light

**Author's Note:**

> I'M SUPPOSED TO BE WORKING ON A LONGER FIC BUT I WANTED TO WRITE SOMETHING SWEET SO HERE WE ARE

Michael keeps a treasure chest.

At least, that's what Adam would call it. Truth be told, it's simply a collection of memories that he buries in the very center of his being, for when his end eventually comes.

Everything dies. Michael knows that. And he will, too, one day. Whether that day will come soon or whether he will continue on with his old, old life for millions of years more, that remains to be seen. But he will. 

And, when that day comes, he stores memories to glimpse in his last few moments. 

This habit is something new, something private that Adam was entirely unaware of. He'd never even thought of doing it, during the times of _before_ —would have considered it maudlin human sentiment, something unnecessary and irrelevant that would contribute no benefits to the execution of his Father's plan. 

But this is not _before_ , and Michael no longer scoffs at such sentiment. Instead, he tentatively welcomes it, allows it to make a home in his grace, letting it and love and peacefulness from Adam slowly erode the anger and bitterness and betrayal that had licked at him like hot flames ever since he'd discovered the truth about his Father. 

It is gradual, but the change has been noticeable. Like himself, he supposes, and what he was like _before_. 

And his collection was precious to him in a way that nothing else had ever been before, simply for the memories residing in it—the ones that made his grace pulse with happiness and the corners of his apparition's mouth twist up in a unconscious smile, something that he still found quite odd. He should be able to control his facial expressions at all given times, but these...they made his emotions escape his control. 

One drifts out of the clutches of his grace to the surface of his mind, brought forward by his inner musings, and Michael raises his head in surprise as it washes over him. 

_"Come on, come on...damn it!" Adam mutters, brows drawn together as he curses at the game on his phone. Michael watches on in contentment, chuckling a little at Adam's misfortune. Adam sends a scowl his way, but there is no heat or malice behind it—his soul is serene, calm, if a little annoyed at the game in front of him. Night has overtaken the world outside, and they're sitting on top of their bed, with Michael leaning back against the headboard, his hands clasped together in his lap as he gazes at his human, who was currently hunched over his phone like his life depended on it._

_"Having trouble?" Michael teases, smiling in the face of Adam's indignance. Adam sighs, after a moment, shoulders slumping into something more relaxed from where they'd been tensed in concentration._

_"This level is fucking impossible," he grumbles, letting the phone hang loosely from his grasp. "It's like they rigged it on purpose. My fingers can't move that fast!" And then, he sits up straighter, like he's just had an idea. His eyes lock onto Michael's with an intensity that should not have been born of a piece of machinery._

_"But_ yours _can."_

_"...Adam—"_

_"C'mon, please? Just try to beat this level? It's like—another human thing!" He flashes a hopeful smile. "The human guide knows best, right? And humans play video games all the time, and you've only ever_ watched _me play stuff on my phone."_

 _Michael_ thunks _the back of his apparition's head against the bed's headboard. "I'm not going to win this, am I?"_

_Adam only smiles wider. Michael finally shoots him a deadpan look and reaches for the phone, but the look only lasts as long as it takes for it to curl into a smile once more when he feels pleased amusement ripple from Adam's side of the bond._

_Sighing, he begins to mirror Adam's previous actions and starts playing. The strategy of the game is simple, for him—he can see the correct pathway for the digital character to follow as soon as the proper screen appears, and as such, he navigates it through it. Adam is hovering over his shoulder, staring at the screen as if to memorize how Michael does it with the utmost concentration, and it makes a warm feeling bubble up in his grace, one that always managed to chase away the final traces of aggrieved hurt._

_Oh, how his past self would be crying out at how far he had supposedly fallen. But Michael knew better, now. He had not fallen. If anything, he had risen, propelled into being a thousand times better than who he had previously been._

_When the next level appears on the screen, Adam does not ask Michael to return the phone. Instead, he keeps his eyes glued to the phone, eagerly anticipating Michael's next move like he hadn't asked for Michael to beat just the singular level._

_The archangel indulges him and continues playing, if only to make him happy. He makes it through thirteen more levels before there is a weight, suddenly, against the shoulder of his apparition, and Michael turns his head to figure out why._

_Adam had fallen asleep, it seemed, leaning his body entirely against him with his head coming to rest on Michael's shoulder._

_This was not the first time that Adam had leaned on him, but it never fails to strike Michael how much of an act of_ trust _this gesture is—Adam, a human, something that was small and fragile when compared to the celestial beings that Michael had spent his entire life around, trusted_ him _enough to willingly fall asleep on his shoulder. Michael, who had killed hundreds—no,_ thousands _, in his lifetime; who had torn his own brother to shreds before locking him away in a cage, whose actions had led to both himself and Adam eventually being abandoned and left to rot away in the exact same place._

_His hands were made to hurt, but Adam trusted them anyway, placed his life and soul in Michael's palms and smiled, always smiled when he did so._

_It was an act of trust that Michael swore always to reciprocate, to never betray, like he himself had been. Like Adam, too, had been, by the Winchesters._

_Just another thing they had in common, now, he supposed._

_He turns the phone off and places it on the nightstand next to the bed, placing his hand on Adam's back to slowly move him back against the bed, shifting his body gently down until his head was resting against the pillow. Michael hesitates, only for a moment, before sinking down beside him, bringing his arm up and around Adam when the human seems to instinctively curl into him. His soul is flickering with the last vestiges of wakefulness, and Michael gently envelops his grace around it until they finally dissipate, soothing Adam’s arm with his thumb as he does so._

_It is always a wonder, to view Adam’s soul after he has fallen into a slumber, because it is always active, always bright; his mind does not restrict the flow of emotions from one side of the bond to the other, the same way as it sometimes does when he is awake. They share many—if not all—things with each other, but they did have their semblance of privacy. But that semblance was eroded when Adam was sleep, as there was no one awake on Adam’s side of the bond to hold it together. Still, Michael would keep his distance if Adam ever asked it of him, but the human had seemed entirely fine with it when told of the occurrence._

_“Well, I’d be asleep,” Adam had said, shooting a bemused grin in Michael’s direction, “so it’s not like it matters. It’s not really_ that _different from how we are when I’m awake, anyways.”_

_So, now, Michael gazes upon it from where it was wrapped in layers and layers of his grace, cradling it like something precious, something reverential. And it is, to him. It is that and more, scintillating as emotion pours from it to Michael, and the emotion itself makes him still as it ripples across his grace; peacefully, gently, never harshly nor jarringly._

_It is love._

_And it is tender, and it is soft, and it reverberates through himself and his wings like he is a blade of grass in a tornado, threatening to blow him away with how reposeful it is. This quiet love, still so gentle and dulcet even after a millennium in Hell, will never fail to take him aback._

_Michael knows of fierce love, of devotional love, of angry love and all of its layers, from hatred to desperation. But this...this is still new, to an old celestial like him, and he is never sure of whether or not he deserves it, still shies away from the feeling of basking in and relishing it. Adam continues to flood him with it all the same, hallowing him in a new way; a different way._

_And Michael leans forward, lips coming to press down on the top of Adam’s forehead, attempting to reciprocate the love he felt through the touch, through his grace; down, down, down, until it came full circle and reached Adam’s soul once more._

_If he can give Adam even a bit of the love that Adam had given to him, then his life will not have been in vain._

This, _he thinks, abruptly,_ This. I want to remember this. 

_And he does._

“—chael? Are you okay?”

Blinking, Michael finds himself pulled back to reality, Adam’s face staring at him worriedly from across the kitchen table. 

“Michael,” he says again, slowly, earnestly, and it brings a sense of warmth to him, to know someone cares about him with such conviction. “You with me, halo?”

He takes a moment to restore the memory to its original resting place, pausing before closing the doors of the chest in favor of focusing on Adam’s face, here and now, the coruscating color of his eyes and the angle of his jawline, the way the light catches his hair and how his mouth purses lightly in concern. 

Michael adds it to his collection, closes the doors, and smiles, noting the way Adam’s expression eases at the sight of it. 

“Of course. Always.”

**Author's Note:**

> comments are much appreciated! i hope you enjoyed :) have a nice day!
> 
> my tumblr is @adammilligan!


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